


Yuletide Confusions

by GlassesAndGiggles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter Goblet of Fire
Genre: Christmas, Comedy, Comforting, Complete, Crying, F/M, Fluffy, Humor, Love Confessions, Older Man/Younger Woman, One-Shot, Sweet, Year 4, Yuletide Ball, goblet of fire - Freeform, just kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10057139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassesAndGiggles/pseuds/GlassesAndGiggles
Summary: Year 4, Yuletide Ball, Hermione looks like a princess and is on the arm of world-famous celebrity. She should be having the time of her life... if not for stubborn, hurtful Ron. When Hermione exacts her sugary revenge on the clueless redhead, her aim is off. This leaves Ron's older bespectacled brother to pick up the pieces of (pastry) Hermione's wounded feelings. Percy/Hermione, kind of.





	

Stupid sodding Ron...

Running make-up stung her eyes and tasted awful.

Hermione felt she'd dealt with Ron very well this year. Even when he was at his most antagonistic with Harry, she'd always advocated for understanding his point of view. As a single child, true, Hermione's understanding of Ron's psyche was purely academic mixed with external observation. But she still tried, which is more than could be said for either of her best friends. Through it all, even though it was so stressful, even though she had to be strong for both of them, she had never abandoned Ron.

Even when he was acting like a right jerk, saying things like 'they don't make them like that at Hogwarts', she hadn't held it against his character. Even when he'd only asked her out as a last resort to avoid having to go with a 'troll', Hermione had resisted the temptation to lash out. 

Indeed, she hadn't even revealed how deeply such a thoughtless comment had wounded her. To be asked in such a way, after waiting to be asked so long, was worse than not being asked to go at all. When she'd cried and the other dorm mates had inquired as to what was troubling her, she fished out an old essay with less than perfect marks. 

Her dorm mates accepted this and laughed off her tears, not intentionally unkind but unable to take her stress seriously. Like Ron, they seemingly didn't see her as anything other than a one-note caricature. The idea of her having the same confusing, overwhelming hormones that the rest of the class was experiencing was absurd. She had at the time realized that if she revealed that she was crying because she liked a boy, and that boy was Ron, and Ron had essentially said she was essentially a bloke, everyone would react with either disbelief, amusement, or shock. 

Much like when Percy Weasley's tryst with Penelope Clearwater had been revealed two years ago. Just because she had an excellent head her heart must be a joke. Although Percy had his own signature Weasley thick-headedness, she felt a sympathy now for him. But even he hadn't been stripped of his gender by his studiousness; no one had accused him of not being a man just because he didn't primp.

Hermione was lost in a sea of tears, and stopped moving. Her face had been so hot from fury and blushing that she hadn't realized how cold her surroundings were until the chill had nipped itself deep into the exposed arms of her gown.

If she didn't calm herself she'd ruin all the hard work she'd put into her appearance the last few hours. She retrieved a handkerchief from her dainty, impractical purse and dabbed at the snot dribbling under her nose once. She breathed in the cold Christmas air. 

No.   
She'd been quiet long enough about all that Ron put her through.  
She would go clear this up. Tell him that he owed her an apology.

She hurried back inside the hall, looking for where Harry and Ron had been seated. Her eyes were still bubbling with hot tears that reduced all faces to blobs of color with different colors for the hair, and different still for the clothing. It let her see enough to avoid colliding with others, but only just barely. The chaos of the dancing bodies, the loud music, and the unusual lay out because of the celebrations made her consider retreat.

And yet, self-righteous indignation burned deep in her chest.

And she pushed forward. If anyone saw her crying and it made them uncomfortable they could just deal with it. It wouldn't be the first-time Hogwarts had been a home for tears and it wouldn't be the last. But this, this would not wait. 

She saw the small table that Ron and Harry had been sitting at. Harry was gone but the blob of fiery red hair let her know Ron was still ignoring his date, lingering in his seat. 

She returned towards destination she had walked forward only earlier that evening, chest heaving from dancing but also from nerves. Before, she'd been rehearsing in her head again and again, wondering what Ron would say about her.

Hermione I was wrong. They do make them like that at Hogwarts.  
Hermione, Victor's going to have to wait, because I need this next dance.  
Hermione, you're just too cute.  
Hermione...

Her face was hot. Originally, it'd gotten this way from embarrassment, but now it burned from a deep shame. Of course, Ron wouldn't say any of those things. He was still just a little boy. She thought maybe how weak he was against the veela meant that he'd reached maturity, but no. Maybe... maybe it just meant he was very primitive and shallow.  
Certainly, not interested in a big-toothed, bushy-haired, plain-

The blob that was Ron looked to his side. Another blob, with longer hair, was leaning over and whispering something into his ear. Or maybe kissing his cheek. Or... something. 

And then he laughed.

And that Ron could be laughing while she was suffering incensed her.   
That he would be openly flirting while she was stumbling around the dance, miserable because of his nastiness, ignited injustice's flames in her. Without conscious thought, her hand found a powdery, fruit-filled desert pastry. As her fingers curled around it it bled berry custard. Powdered sugar came off like flakes of delicate snow as she rose it into the air.

It was unwise.  
It was unfair.  
It was an overreaction. 

A hot-headed response to a slight that was completely inside the rules. She'd probably get detention. With so many witnesses, she certainly would. And it'd cause a row in the Gryffindor common room later. And there were a million other reasons she should just put the pastry down.  
But Ron's bright red head was like a target in the watery kaleidoscope of swimming colors. She was more beautiful then she'd ever been in her life. She was the date of an international sports star. And she couldn't enjoy any of it, all she could do was pity herself.

And this, the fact that Ron had caused the oh-so-often selfless Hermione to feel waves of self-pity drowning her, was the most unforgivable thing of all. 

And she snapped, just like she had last year when her hand had come up to meet Malfoy's smug, sadistic face. And her painted fingers unclenched, loosing the pastry to sail through the air. 

It exploded against the back of Ron's head. Ron stood up, quickly and much too tall-y. Very tall. Towering over the table, at least two feet too tall, if truth be told. And Hermione was confused....

She pressed her sleeve against her eyes as lightly as possible.

She looked up again, blinking away the few remaining tears. They'd seemed to have gotten spooked by the immediate risk of detention, leaving her sight clearer.

Percy Weasley was staring at her, a hand pressed against the back of his head. A shower of powdered sugar dusted the shoulders of his new navy blue dress robes, melting into the hue like the edge of a foamy wave.

"Hermione?"

Hermione was frozen. A few eyes were turning to look at them. She was grateful she had not shouted, for the soft impact and Percy's subdued reaction had not garnered too much attention yet. 

"Yes?" Hermione said, bewildered but not insincerely so. Percy lowered his hand and looked down at his long fingers. Then he looked over Hermione. Her mind not on subterfuge, she didn't hide the incriminating sweet finger tips of her main hand.

"We, uh, match?" Percy held out his hand. Then he looked around the table. He spotted the corpse of the pastry, split open from impact and oozing onto the shimmery table-cloth from its wound. His mouth drew tight. "What, I mean, Why? This isn't about the elf, is it? A spirited discussion would have been more appropriate. I can't imagine many are in the mood for a food fight in formalwa-"

But then he trailed off. Still concerned, he dabbed at the back of his neck with a napkin but he was already making his way around the edge of the table to join her. Hermione took a step backwards, or tried to, but her shame was now somehow compounding itself into something more rancid in her gut. Her unfamiliar dress shoes made her ankle twist painfully and she winced. Her tear ducts quivered.  
She'd not only failed to get revenge on Ron, she'd ruined Percy's new robes. And everyone was looking at her like she was bonkers. And... and...

"Are you okay?" He had to lean down to look into her eyes. She could see her own face in the reflections from his horn-rimmed glasses. Those were new too. New frames, no worn patches of colorlessness at the hinge points like the pair he'd worn all their years in Gryffindor together. They matched his outfit, a velvety cold color.

Hermione swallowed, nodded, and sighed.  
"Sorry, Percy. I... thought you were someone else."  
"The Twins?" Percy immediately rose and looked around, like a paranoid bird guarding its nest from potential threats. This evoked a small snort of laughter from Hermione, which drew Percy's attention back down to her. He cocked his head, which didn't help the bird impression any. And then, the frozen state brought on was shattered, and she was crying again.

"Hermione, come on, out here to the hall, you can... help me, with this mess. I demand it." Percy imperiously guided her to the edge of the dance floor, and then continued down the hall to one of the bathrooms. It was a small single person room, not one of the large communal ones. He held open the door for her, but didn't enter himself. The stone basin sink and small chamber pot sat beyond, looking far tidier then the usual restroom and outfitted with comfortable hand towels and a vase of winter blooms.

"Wha-What's this?"

"It's a faculty restroom. No one likes to do their business next to their students, or vice versa. Now, you... go on in there and calm down, and then we can figure out what all this is about." Percy seemed in his element, bossing Hermione around. She had half a mind to tell him since he was no longer Head Boy he had no authority in Hogwarts, but when she looked up at that scowling face she lost the will to fight.

She moved into the room. The door closed behind her. She turned on the tap, splashing cold water on her face until her tears were no longer spreading fever to her mind. She took a few breaths to calm herself. She studied herself in the mirror.

When she'd left the common room this evening, she'd been certain she was beautiful.  
Now, she was not sure. Her running make up was returned to its pre-bawling state with a quick spell, but the light that had danced in her eyes was still dimmed after she lowered the wand. The rage cooled, congealing into expired pudding skin in her gut. She felt sick, but not hysterical anymore. 

Ron didn't like her. Or he did, but she wasn't pretty enough for him.

Whatever, it didn't matter. Whatever the cause, she'd acted like a fool. And crying here wasn't going to make him like her, so it was best to... best to....

Get ahold of herself and go out there and face the dance and enjoy herself. Who knows if Hogwarts would ever have another ball? She wouldn't get to go to Muggle prom, so she had to make the best of this.

"Are you all right?" Percy inquired through the door, his voice muffled.

Hermione took the towel, dabbing it under the tap and letting it soak. Then she stepped out into the hallway again. But, Percy seemed to already be sans powdered sugar or custard.

"Oh." She looked numbly at the towel in her hands. He must have already cleaned off with a quick spell. 

 

"Wizard." Percy half-smiled, but he took the towel obligingly from Hermione anyway and dabbed at the back of his already clean neck. "Am a bit warm, though. Hermione..."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"So.... were you aiming for me?" Percy asked.

 

"No."

 

"Then?"

 

"Ron." She admitted, miserably. 

 

"Ron? I thought he and Harry were into it this year, not you and him."

 

"We're not. He just... got mad at me for going with Krum. And I got mad at him."

 

"Why is that?" Percy had never shown much interest in the activities of Hermione and her friends before. Then again, said activities had always been going on intentionally avoiding his detection since he'd been a prefect since the moment Hermione had first crossed the thresh hold into Hogwarts. Perhaps if more of their plans had involved hitting Percy with food, his interest in their lives would have been piqued these last few years. 

 

"He said..." And the words made her throat clench. "He said... that Krum only asked me because he wants me to reveal secrets about Harry." The words tasted sour.

 

"That could be a reason, I suppose." At this utterance from Percy, Hermione glared up at him. She wasn't going to regret hitting him with the puff after all. But then, he continued. "One reason, but certainly not the only one. There's many reasons he could ask you out."  
Hermione cast him a doubtful look.

 

"Maybe Ron has a point." She murmured, hugging her own elbows. "No boys ever been interested in me before, maybe... the timing..."

 

"You don't think boys have ever been interested in you before?" Percy's eyebrows went high, his tone amused. "You can't actually believe that. Hermione, forgive me if this seems intrusive, but have you ever been attracted to a boy before the ball?" His hand rested on her shoulder, trying to warm her.

 

Hermione frowned. Gilderoy Lockhart immediately sprang to mind, but he was never really a boy, just a fantasy. But she had noticed boys around Hogwarts more and more lately, getting lost in admiring the contours of their chins, the musky scent they had at the end of the school day before baths, the way the sunlight streaming through the windows in the library glanced against their hair. And all of that, those spasms of hormonal craving for mere class mates, were nothing compared to the constant occupation Ron had on her mind that she'd... never bothered to tell him about.

Feeling sheepish, she gave a small nod.

 

"But you didn't do anything about it, did you?" Percy asked.

 

"There... was no reason to." Hermione shrugged, still clutching her own elbows.  
"I'm busy with my studies, and anyway, those sorts of relationships aren't... against the rules, but it's hard to find time or space for them, isn't it?" 

 

"So... if you found classmates attractive but they never discovered this, doesn't it follow that some of your peers could think you are very cute, but never show it?"

 

"Just because something's possible doesn't mean it's true." Hermione groaned. "Percy I know you're trying to help but you don't need to take pity on me. I get it. I'm a... a blue stocking, a nerd, boys don't like me. Even when I do my best, I'm still just..." Her bottom eyelids crinkled.   
"...barely a girl."

 

"Hermione, I know for a fact that boys like you. Ron's just being a ... a prat." Strong words from the well-behaved Weasley. 

 

"Name one. You went to school with me."

 

"I..." Percy's hesitated. Hermione jerked her shoulder away.

 

"See. Not a one."

 

"We're not in the same year Hermione; we didn't run in the same circles-"

 

"You're just making me feel worse." Hermione sniffed. Percy's sagged with exasperation.

 

"Fine, If it means avoiding more crying, I'll breach the confidence that's been put in me, but you mustn't repeat any of this." Percy gave a little cough. "Neville Longbottom likes you, always has, since first year. He just thinks you deserve better and isn't ready to for that sort of... relationship. So, he's never bothered you with it, but certainly mentioned it around Valentine's day that he considered sending you a cupid. I advised him against it."

 

Hermione rolled her soppy eyes.

 

"Neville's sweet, but that hardly makes me feel any better. Doesn't make me feel..." What? Beautiful? Just thinking it made Hermione mad at herself. She was being ridiculous but she couldn't stop it. She was taking out her anger at Ron on Percy, making the brother soothe the wounds. 

 

"And others." Percy amended. 

 

"Like who?"

 

"You don't need to know, it's just...." Percy adjusted his glasses fussily.

 

"No one sees me as a girl. Just a friend. Just Hermione. It's fine, I just... can't believe..."

 

Percy exhaled, leaning down again.

 

"Fine. I'll tell you. But you must assure me that you'll keep this in the utmost confidence. This is a high-stakes secret, and it wouldn't do for it go being blabbed about. Do you understand?"   
He held both of her shoulders to keep her looking into his eyes. "Hermione, I need you to swear that if i tell you this, you will not reveal it to a soul. There would be dire consequences. I know you can be trusted, but I need to confirm you are ready for this before I burden you with it."

 

"Percy, you're acting like you're about to tell me Department of Mystery secrets."

 

"More precious even then that."

 

"Fine," She rose a hand, sticking out a pinky. She was really mocking him. "I swear I will not tell a soul what you utter to me next."

 

To her surprise, Percy took her pinkie, curling it in his. His slim hand was warm. All at once she didn't feel so alone and queasy, although it was stupid it should make such a difference. The soft pulsing of his blood in his skin against hers grounded her somehow.

 

"I know for a fact that boys fancied you sincerely, and long before the ball, because..." Percy in haled, closed his eyes, and then exhaled. He flashed a self-effacing smile. "...because I was one of those boys."

 

The air between them grew quieter, the distant sounds of partying now only accompanied by their faint breathing. Then Hermione attempted to tug her hand away, though Percy's pinkie was still wrapped around it.

 

"Making fun of me!" She whispered. "Making fun of me when you know how upset I already am, and it's your brother's bloody fault. I expect this sort of callousness from the twins, but from you..." She was still struggling. Percy clasped his other hand over their intertwined fingers to keep Hermione from escaping. After jerking her hand up and down a few times she finally surrendered, slumping against the wall.

 

"I'm not-" Percy protested. 

 

"You are, you are. You're having a laugh at me." She grimaced. "Why? I thought you were better than this, I thought you were more like Ginny. You're all rotten, all the Weasley boys."

 

"But I'm serious! I did fancy you!"

 

"Percy stop being ridiculous. You're years older than me."

 

"I know." Percy was keeping his voice low. His panicked expression was hard to read behind the glasses in such a shadowy corridor, but his mouth was drawn into a wincing frown. "I know that. Why do you think I never said anything? There was nothing for it, really. Even if I fancied you, you were far too young and I was far too old and admitting it would have done nothing but cause awkwardness-"

 

"You can't... you're just... fine. What did you like?" Hermione puffed out her chest. If he was going to tease her, then she'd tease him back.

 

"I... I uh..."

 

Like she thought, he was lying. 

 

Worse yet, he was mocking her. And holding her captive. Their hands still intertwined.

 

Fine, if he thought it was funny, then...

 

While Percy searched for an answer, Hermione leaned forward.

 

She pressed her lips against his. A graze of a kiss. An exaggerated pucker.

 

He was supposed to recoil.

 

He was supposed to push her away.

 

He was supposed to get indignant and lecture and take five points from Gryffindor.

 

Instead, he let go of her hand. 

 

Instead, he leaned forward when she pulled back, and kissed her a second time.

 

Instead, his pinkie curled from hers and his hand drifted up to behind her neck, the other flowing down to the small of her back. Her pulled her against him, and the kiss melted into a third. And then a fourth. And then, because he wasn't entirely drawing his mouth back, it became impossible to keep track of where one kiss ended and the next one began. And Hermione found herself in a passionate, wildly inappropriate embrace, pinned between the wall and Percy's too tall, lean body.

 

At some point between his initial confession and when Percy began running kisses up and down her neck, Hermione suspected he might have been honest.

 

He really had fancied her. 

 

And this meant that she, not he, had been the one acting disingenuous with that sudden igniting kiss. And now, working at her neck tenderly in a way that made her knees soft, Percy was laboring under the false impression that she fancied him in return. The thought had never crossed her mind before this very moment.

 

She pressed at his chest.

 

He adjusted his shoulders, leaning in more at the left side, so her hand slid free. But he did not stop dragging his lips across her skin, hot puffs of hair followed by cooling exhalations that caused her to shiver. 

 

Why was he so tall?

 

She opened her mouth to protest. Percy nipped at her ear.

 

She gave a low moan instead.

 

She felt Percy's lips curve into a smile against her skin. 

 

"Percy, stop!" She managed. The smile meant Percy had relented, allowing her mind to clear. Percy stood back up. He inevitably looked down at her. His flushed expression of victory melted. As the red drained from his face, his freckles reemerged.

 

"Hermione? What is it? Is something wrong?" He inquired. Behind his spectacles, his eyes went wide. "Hermione, are-are you crying? I-I..." He took another step back. "I didn't mean to make you cry again, Hermione. I... thought this... was what you wanted." Percy bit his lip. "I mean, you made it seem like, that's what you wanted."

 

His eyebrows pinched together.

 

Hermione blinked. Her eyes were moist.

 

But she could see a frown straddling his thin lips.

 

Was... he annoyed?

 

The Weasley boys really were insufferable dense and callous.

 

Hermione replied huffily.

 

"I just... I never kissed before. I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed." She pressed the base of her palm against her eyes. Percy mouthed wordlessly for a moment. Then, he sunk into himself, losing a few inches as he slouched. Since one could often press a ruler to his spine with no problem, this pose made him look distinctly un-Percy-like. 

 

"Of course. I knew this was a bad idea. Even if Krum is only a year younger than me, that year, it's all the difference. And so many girls fancy him, he's not..." Percy shook his head. Hermione noticed that his glasses were crooked, having been knocked aside while he'd been kissing her. She reached out, painted fingertips brushing them into the right place. 

 

Percy inhaled. A longing keen she had never heard before in the man's voice made him seem vulnerable. It didn't gel with the way she was used to thinking of inflexible, imperious Percy. It made him feel human. As if instead of lacking the mischievous desires of his siblings he'd simply been suppressing them all of these years. That her being this close and yet untouchable was causing him suffering. 

 

"Not only a bad idea, illegal too, I think." Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. This only accentuated her cleavage, although she'd done it to be modest. Percy managed to keep his gaze on her eyes for the most part.

 

"That... is correct." Percy stood up, taking another step back from her. His hard-soled shoes echoed quietly in the long, dark stone hallway. "You're right, I'm being encouraged by your feelings, but it doesn't matter how much you admire and yearn for me Hermione, this will never work."

 

"Guh?" The sound wasn't fully articulated, just a sound in Hermione's throat.

 

"I know." Percy nodded. His stature improving. One of his long fingers tapped his chin. "Even if it's an invitation I would have gladly accepted last year, it is impossible now. Simply beyond conceiving. I am sorry to have to tell you this Hermione, especially after the electricity of our kiss." 

 

"Percy, I didn't..." She then smiled, pressing her fingers against her own lips. She was going to say, 'I don't like you', but she stopped herself. She had kissed him. And he'd stopped when she'd asked. And here he was, putting the ultimatum to end their relationship, which didn't exist. If this helped him feel better about being rejected, let him think what he would. "I don't know what to say." She finished, biting back a laugh.

 

Percy sighed, looking down at her. He mistook the suppressed laugh for a sob. He pulled her into a hug, though this one platonic.

 

"You are so clever, beautiful, and kind." He gave her one last squeeze. "Now, it's time you got back to Mister Krum, isn't it?" The words would have usually fluttered her loose hair, but with it being slickened like this, they just tickled her ears. "After all, international cooperation between wizards is what this all about. Best to not leave such a potentially powerful ally waiting."

 

"Right." Hermione agreed. Percy let go of her, his arms drifting away. She made it down the hall and turned the corner. She... hadn't heard his stiff shoes on the hard floor, just her own. She paused. Hermione turned, and then peaked around the corner.

 

Percy hadn't moved from where they'd been standing. His back was pressed against the wall.   
His new glasses were off in his right hand. His left hand had stopped in his red hair, pushing it back into place. His face, freckled despite being an adult, was turned towards the ceiling. He was not looking at anything specific. He kept blinking.

 

Hermione turned away, and went to find Viktor Krum. 

 

Maybe she liked a boy who didn't feel that way about her. Maybe her and Ron could never be together. But... she wouldn't be the first, or the last, in that situation. Dozens at Hogwarts probably felt exactly as she did this evening.

 

Viktor Krum, with his thick arms and shy smile, called out to her when she re-entered the hall, brandishing the drinks with triumph. Hermione hurried over, her heart already beginning to race with possibilities. If those kisses felt that good coming from Percy, she couldn't imagine how amazing it was going to feel with someone she actually liked, even if it wasn't true love.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ( but not last!) Harry Potter fanfiction on the site. If you're a Percy fan too, or enjoy my writing, feel free to reach out! I'd love to make more friends online. Thank you for reading!


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